the unwound road

Janet (aka Lavenderbay) took this photo of me admiring the wonders of nature in New Zealand.

I know, it has been more than a month (wordpress courteously calls it “a while”) since I’ve posted, and a lot of water has galloped under that bridge.

I’ve thought from time to time of ideas that would make interesting posts, but thinking doesn’t always translate into doing. And doing has taken up all of my thinking lately. There was the 10-day trip to Paris, then the 4-day trip to New Brunswick, and all the jet-lag, catching-up, mental hiccups, etc that accompany changes of scenery and daily routine, not to mention time zones. But that’s another blog.

The occasion for writing is a prod from a friend, Goodbear, who awarded me with a “Tree of Happiness” and tapped me for a meme. It’s a simple task, at first glance, just the sort of thing to get me back into writing again: list six things that make me happy; name six blogrollers as recipients of this award; and link to the giver and the givees.

And, hey, I like a challenge, so…. hmm, maybe that could be my First Thing… so here goes, six things that make me happy (but not necessarily in order):

1. A challenge overcome: Yes, I can be competitive, but I my natural contraryness compels me to compete most fervently against the naysayers and despairers. Most of all I love games or problems that I can apply my Gillian-patented blend of humour, intuition and wiggly lines to come up with a possible solution (or even better, a choice of solutions from several possibilities). This is a highly satisfying pursuit, and I will drop my own boring work at the merest whimper from one of my co-workers in order to spring to the rescue. (But it’s strange how my work never gets finished on time…!)

2. A doggy grin: I will admit it, I am now a total dog convert. Of course, I still love cats, and Cuca has no complaints when I stop to skritch him at that dry spot along his jawbone and behind his ears, but only a dog can make me smile when I’m all pouty inside. All it takes is that happy panting goofy grin to cause my droopy mouth to turn up at the corners, and before I know it, I’m grinning right back.

3. A forest path: I love the hush of the forest — where the ever-present hum of the city is drowned out by bird song and the sound of the wind in the trees. This is the song of the unwound road, which I have written about here, so I won’t repeat myself, except to say that this is one pleasure that I all too seldom allow myself. In fact, I have been doing way too little physical activity of any kind lately, so I hope we’ll have lots of time during our upcoming camping trip in Bon Echo for trail tramping!

4. A good meal with good company: I may be good at multi-tasking, but all too often I’m trying to read or work on the computer while I’m eating… or should I say, “wolfing my food”. I seldom take time for breakfast at home, ending up most days with a muffin and coffee at my desk at work, and that’s where my lunch often is as well. Then at home, there’s blogs and e-mails and other computer business to swallow up yet another meal time. How marvelous then when my partner and I actually take the time to sit down and eat and talk and spend a meal together, whether at home or at the pub, with friends or by ourselves. Sometimes it’s only then that I truly relax. (Or maybe that’s just the glass of cheer talking.)

5. Music: I’m a trained musician, but I’ve stopped playing music myself, at least for the time being. (That’s another blog for another time.) Yet I can’t help being moved by music. I love so many styles, and I don’t always know what’s going to hit me in the heart on a given day, whether it’s the sublime “Summertime” from Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess (that we were so fortunate to see in Paris), the joyful skip of a medieval dance tune (as played by the Toronto Consort, for example), the full-throated folk-song world fusion composition (such as a song by the Finnish group Värttinä), the aching pain-pleasure balancing act of a Puccini aria, or one of those comfortably familiar ’70s tunes that we can croon along with in wobbly harmony. Music touches me and moves me; it picks up my feet and my heart and my hopes.

6. Photography: I take photographs. If I am seeing something — anything — for the first time, and there isn’t a camera attached to my face, it’s hard for me to fully enjoy the experience. I use a camera to record what I see, urban juxtapositions and natural wonders, friends and family, the world around me. I take photographs to make sense of what I see, and to help me see and appreciate the small delights that lift life away from the mundane. Sometimes when I’m behind a camera, when I’m focusing on a huge vista or tiny flower, time flows by like a dream, and I am completely absorbed by my task. After viewing and enhancing these photos I’ve created, it is a huge reward (and often ego-boost) to choose the best and share them with others. It’s like that with words, too, although they aren’t as immediate — so thanks for taking the time to read these!

Phew. I did manage to find six things, and I haven’t even mentioned chocolate. Wow. I have a lot to be happy about. Thank you, Goodbear, for the invitation!

Now, since I haven’t been active here for a long while, I don’t know whether my blogfriends will notice if I tag them, but I guess it’s worth trying. So, here’s a Tree of Happiness — and an invitation to list six happy things — going out to: haiku-ist extraordinaire Shaw Malcolm, world-explorer Richard, Devon organic farmer Paula, and… oh, Lavenderbay has already tagged the others I would have asked. Oh well. Three Trees of Happiness is a good start, and maybe I’ll find some more recipients later.

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New discoveries are always the top of my news reading. Every explorer, scientist, and researcher is out to discover something, whether it’s an archeological “find”, a new biological species, or a technological advance.

Discovery is what makes science interesting for me, because I can continue to “discover” so many new things for myself. I’m particularly fascinated how innovation and imagination work together in the realm of science, not only in generating a hypothesis but also in providing the means to prove or disprove it. My own theory is that little would be discovered at all without imagination and its cousin curiosity.

I have no doubt that factors such as knowledge, discipline, training, persistence and painstaking tracking of detail — and heaps of previous failed experiments — make up 99% of the work of science. But it’s the accidents, the leaps of imagination, the long-hoped-for but unexpected breakthroughs that will be remembered.

As a trained musician who has given piano lessons to students from age 5 to age 75, I am intrigued by the human ability to make a leap from the known to the unknown.

The inter-related skills of playing a musical instrument — note-reading, coordination of eye and hands, strengthening fingers and learning fine motor control, developing tactile memory, practicing patterns of movement, using hearing to provide corrective feedback, learning the mechanical abilities and limitations of the instrument, reproducing written notation in terms of time and volume — these skills can be learned by almost anybody.

But the difficult point for many students, especially the older ones, is learning how to trust these skills, to step back, as it were, from the complex task and just play. When all these skills come together under their creative control, when the person playing the piano can listen to the whole sound and “feel” the notes forming under their fingers, then music is the result.

When I taught piano lessons, I tried to describe this leap of trust in terms of driving a car. I remember my early lessons, my nervousness, and how I was paralyzed in the middle of a road once because I couldn’t figure out how to flick on my turning signal, apply the brake, check the mirror and turn the steering wheel all at the same time. Yet now I can do all these (and many more complex) tasks at once without thinking about more than the single act of “turning the car”.

Imagination is important for me in almost every area of learning. When someone at work asks for help with a computer problem I have never seen before, I can often use my imagination to “intuit” the solution. When I have a difficult task or conversation ahead of me, I depend on my imagination to “visualize” a successful outcome. And when I plan my holidays (or daydream about being on holiday), I use my imagination to “picture” being in a wonderful environment. And I’m trying to use my imagination to leap that gap between my French lessons and the ability to think and speak in French, but I haven’t succeeded… yet!

Innovative thinking and imagination — the ability to see beyond a complex problem to an exciting solution — this is where science and the arts meet.

All images from the Digital ‘07 Art Exhibition “Pattern Finding” organized by Art and Science Collaborations, Inc (ASCI).

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Related Links:
The Seed: “The future of science… is it art?”
NewScientist: “The art of science”
Art and Imagination
ASCI
Art and science

This morning’s launch of the shuttle Endeavour also launched the career of a new astronaut: Dextre.

The Dextre manipulator (or Special Purpose Dexterous Manipulator), a sophisticated dual-armed robot, is part of Canada’s contribution to the International Space Station (ISS). Designed for servicing the Station, Dextre can remove and replace small components on the Station’s exterior that require precise handling.

Like a mechanic in space, Dextre can pivot at the waist, and its shoulders support two identical arms with seven offset joints that allow for great freedom of movement. It is equipped with lights, video equipment, a stowage platform, and four robotic tools.

At the end of each arm is an orbital replacement unit/tool changeout mechanism, or OTCM-parallel jaws that hold a payload or tool with a vice-like grip. For fine manipulation tasks, Dextre has a unique technology: precise sensing of the forces and torque in its grip with automatic compensation to ensure the payload glides smoothly into its mounting fixture. To grab objects, each OTCM has a retractable motorized socket wrench to turn bolts and mate or detach mechanisms, as well as a camera and lights for close-up viewing. A retractable umbilical connector can provide power, data, and video connection feed-through to payloads.

The cargo bay of Shuttle Endeavour with the Canadian robot Dextre and the pressurized component of Kibo, the Japanese Experiment Module.

Dextre can accomplish tasks that require high precision and a gentle touch such as removing and replacing Station components, opening and closing covers, and deploying or retracting mechanisms. Some of the many tasks Dextre will perform include installing and removing small payloads such as batteries, power switching units, and computers, as well as manipulating, installing, and removing scientific experiments.

A typical task for Dextre would be to replace a depleted battery (100 kg) and engage all the connectors. This involves bolting and unbolting, as well as millimetre-level positioning accuracy for aligning and inserting the new battery.

Like the Canadarm2 and the Mobile Base System, Dextre can be controlled from a workstation inside the space station or by controllers on the ground in mission control centres in Houston, Texas and at Canadian Space Agency headquarters in Longueuil, Quebec. Its five cameras, including two pan/tilt cameras below its rotating torso, provide operators with multiple views of the work area.

Dextre, Canadarm2 and the Mobile Base System form a robotic system called the Mobile Servicing System (MSS). The MSS is built for the Canadian Space Agency by the Canadian company MD Robotics.

(Information and illustrations: Canadian Space Agency)

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The signs of urban decay are there for those who have the eyes to read them: leaking water and sewage systems, roadways deteriorating under the weight of too much traffic and buildings crumbling from smog and acid-rain, rotating black-outs and a strained electric grid, problems with water contamination and garbage disposal. Will the aging infrastructure that holds together our cities with a fragile network of wires and roads and pipes be sufficient for this century, let alone the next one?

I’m not talking about whether these things are fixable. All it takes to keep things running is a lot of money and perhaps some improvements in materials, such as replacing ashphalt pavement with concrete, or cast iron pipes with pvc plastic. But all this work is merely maintaining the status quo — how are we planning for the cities of the future?

The lead story on the WorldChanging website suggests that many cities in the developed world have racked up huge “infrastructure deficits” — backlogs of needed work on existing systems, as well as demand for new systems — and quotes a U.S. study which estimates that it would cost $1.6 trillion dollars to bring everything up to date. “Most of the infrastructure we use today was designed a century ago: some of it is based on ideas that go back to the Roman Empire,” says writer Alex Steffen.

“Essentially all of it was designed for a world without climate change, resource scarcity or any proper understanding of the value of ecosystem services. In other words, most of the systems upon which we depend are not only in a state of critical disrepair, they’re out-dated and even out of touch with the realities of our century.”

The article suggests five new ways to prepare our urban spaces for the future:

1. Adaptive and creative re-use - making the best use of what’s there
2. Whole-system missions - taking into account the impact of systems on society and nature as a whole
3. Resilience and survivability - the social and infrastructure net needs to be sustainable and be able to cope with whatever climate changes or epidemics the future holds
4. Distribution - efficient movement of water, power and other services
5. Wild ideas - creative thinking can change the world

As an example of creative thinking, Steffen points to the design which won one of the Regional Prizes in the History Channel’s “City of the Future” competition. The design by San Francisco architects IwamotoScott takes the city and transforms it using creative ideas like a “hydronet”. The description by Geoff Manaugh on the Bldg Blog sounds like a science-fiction fantasy:

“The project reimagines the entire San Francisco peninsula in the year 2108 A.D., having been overlain, if not completely replaced by, a kind of prosthetic hydrological landscape – complete with underground rivers of algae which will be cultivated as a source of hydrogen for fuel…. Architecturally speaking, the city will sprout a whole series of new structures, including multi-angled fog harvesting machines, tendril-like towers along the waterfront, subterranean transport tunnels, and biologically active reservoirs buried beneath the streets.”

My imagination is really caught by this concept of a truly living city, imagined as a whole system, not just a series of bits and pieces put together all “higgeldy piggeldy”. And like good science fiction, everything imagined here seems not too far from the realm of possibility. Would you like to live in this city? Check out this and other concepts, and vote for your future here.

For more images, check out IwamotoScott’s photoset here.

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